


Footprints in the Sand

by enkiduu



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Falling In Love, M/M, Stranded, Temporary Amnesia, Temporary Muteness, loosely based on calypso
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-04 18:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6670117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enkiduu/pseuds/enkiduu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magnus is cursed to never leave his little island. Alec is washed ashore with amnesia and the inability to speak, and probably bound to leave him eventually because that's what those hero-types do. </p>
<p>Except this isn't some Greek tragedy, and all curses can be broken. The question is, is it worth the price, and what else may break in the process?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. washed ashore

Days pass, then weeks, months, and years; then decades and _centuries_ …since Magnus was marooned in the middle of Nowhere. Magnus stopped counting after four hundred years, finding it easier to just lose himself in magic when he is alone.

Let the waves crash against him like the tears he’d wept the first time someone else stepped foot on the sand here. Let the ocean take away those he inevitably grew to love, whether as a lover or a friend.

The first time is the hardest, because Magnus does not anticipate how crushingly hard it is. Oh, not to love—loving is surprisingly the easiest part. He falls so hard for the girl, who is so soft and gentle and hopeful, gracing him with hope.

He, being the selfish warlock he is, asks her to stay with him. They can be together forever, happily. After all, this island is isolated, spelled (cursed) to be removed from the rest of the world.  

( _In case you didn’t guess,_ no _, she doesn’t stay. No one ever does. They always choose the world over him—for they are its savior, its destroyer. One and the same, to Magnus._ )

Falling isn't the part that kills him. It's when it comes to a stop that he wants to die. 

Magnus can do nothing but wait for the next person to come, and leave with another piece of his heart. 

Sometimes, he dreams of people who leave him drowning in misery in the end, because love is not always requited. Sometimes, he dreams of vampires who bleed him dry and Shadowhunters who make broken promises. Sometimes, he dreams of the end of the world, when he’s the only one left, alone.

Once— _only_ once—he wishes no one will ever come again so he can just wither away and mourn in peace.

But then loneliness comes to accompany him, along with raw terror of eternal solitude, and there is nothing more he wishes than to hear somebody else’s voice.

Funny, then, that the man who washes up on the shore one day—with dark hair, dark eyes, and dark runes seared into his skin, a too-familiar combination that makes Magnus both furious and desperate—is mute. 

***

The few times Alec has been to the ocean (always on Clave business), he's always found its songs melancholy, evoking a sense of unbearable longing that Isabelle and Jace don’t feel. Like an ebb and flow that attracts Alec, even when he is faraway inland.

Isabelle is enchanted by the mysteries out there, while Jace is fully prepared to slay a kraken.

And now Clary Fairchild...she's certainly making waves. Both figuratively and literally. Jace is pulling her into his comforting embrace, firm and strong, teaching her how to stay on land. 

“The sirens are angry,” Isabelle tells Alec worriedly. “They will hold a grudge for what you’ve done."

"The Orb lets Clary breathe on land," Alec says. The merpeople's sacred object, and he stole it for Jace to be with his beloved. 

It's worth it, he thinks. He watches Clary trip, and Jace catches her easily. Clary laughs endearingly, a pleased, beautiful laugh. Jace laughs happily, too, and Alec wonders how long he's heard that, if he ever has. Like fire, they kiss. How can that be, a siren with hair like fiery flames? How can their souls burn so brightly, like a seraph blade in the night ( _cuttin g and painful_)?

Alec averts his gaze abruptly towards the ocean. The clear, big blue is deceptively calm, but feels just as hollow as his chest. Isabelle puts a hand on his shoulder a bit awkwardly. Though he is grateful for the support, right now he needs to be alone. 

He blinks forcibly a few times and shakes her off. Alec tastes salt in the air. It's raining, he thinks, and heads inside the ship's cabin.

( _Not a drop hits_ _him.)_

***

The next thing he knows, Alec wakes up with a pounding headache and confusion, heavy like the currents that are crashing against him. He gasps painfully and holds his breath quickly before a violent wave submerges him. 

The water stings his eyes, and his lungs feel like they're shriveling up. He forces himself to keep from inhaling more water and reaches for his stele.

_Breathe_ , he draws, choking on relief.  _What the hell is happening?_

Thank the forethought of having learned the anti-drowning runes.

The relief doesn't last long, because when he opens his mouth to call for Jace and Isabelle, even Clary, nothing comes out. He feels for their _parabatai_ bond and feels a confusing emptiness, like it's been torn apart—no. _No._

Worse than water, Alec inhales a mouthful of panic. The storm howls like a thrilled predator, and the ocean's dance is like an orchestra led by chaos.

In the distance, Alec hears an alluring song. The song of the sirens. A melody as sweet as summer passion, dizzying and mesmerizing. But something else pulls him away from the song, from certain death, and the sweet melody morphs into cacophonous shrieks, angry that Alec is being stolen from their wrathful grasps. 

Weariness floods his veins and lethargy pulls his eyelids down. Deep down, he knows he must keep awake, but the magic at work here is stronger than anything he can muster.

At the crack of the horizon, where the sky and earth melt together, a drop of light peers out tentatively, bleeding color unto the world. Too many colors, it's unnatural. It cannot possibly be real.

He sees a shore at the end of the ocean. Alec's vision swims confusingly, everything a haze.

Darkness claims him with a note of finality, ending this chaotic threnody, but someone holds on to him.

"Rest now," someone whispers in his ear reassuringly. 

Alec exhales and falls into a deep slumber. 


	2. lost and found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments, kudos and subscriptions, you guys are awesome!

The island's weather depends on Magnus' mood. Which is why it's a perpetual landscape of rain and gloominess. But when Magnus senses the other’s presence the moment he appears in this dimension, the skies open up a little, clouds receding to reveal beautiful colors that Magnus had almost forgotten existed. He teleports to where his isolation is finally breached again, and finds his breath stolen.

A Shadowhunter, that much is obvious by the angelic runes that slide down his skin. He’s beautiful, but visibly suffering, struggling to keep awake. Black clothes stick to him, a thin layer , tears in the fabric revealing wounds all away. Sympathy tugs at Magnus’ heartstrings and he wastes no time in rushing over.

He kneels beside him, placing a soothing hand over the man’s forehead, pulling some of the pain away with a pulse of magic. He’s freezing cold, shivering, gasping for air too violently to actually breathe. Magnus frowns and leans down to whisper in his ear. “Rest now,” he murmurs gently, and the tension rippling out from the man slowly eases.

He quickly brings the man to his current abode: a hut fashioned after the people who inhabited beautiful rainforests and worshipped their Greater Demon who enjoyed sacrifices. Magnus supposes he will renovate it to be more spacious and comfortable. He prefers a small home to a larger, more luxurious one when he has no visitors. An empty villa, he discovered early on, is simply depressing.

Magnus places the man gently on his bed and threads his magic through the man’s wounds, closing gashes in his skin and a nasty bite wound on his shoulder, evidence of the sirens’ wrath. He cleanses the salt out, and the raw, ugly red slides together with some effort, and Magnus winces in sympathy. The oceans have evidently not been kind to him. Sirens are particularly cruel to their prey, toying with their emotions like faeries often do. It is rare that someone has managed to escape their territory. A human resistance to their magical songs is unheard of by Magnus.

Runes curve over perfectly sculpted muscles, bringing celestial powers to a mortal. Magnus has never been completely comfortable around them, around Shadowhunters, because they remind him of why he’s trapped here.

But...it must have been some time since the last Nephilim set foot in Magnus’ personal Hell. He doesn’t know how long has passed in the other dimension. Perhaps they are more welcoming of warlocks and their magic.

Then again, probably not. Memories of the witch hunts still haunt Magnus sometimes when he closes his eyes—so much unnecessary death. So many warlocks trying to get rid of their devil marks while being persecuted en masse, and Ifrits unable to hide. Magnus couldn't protect them, and look where he is now.

This Shadowhunter is young—they always are—yet he knowingly trespassed into Atlantis? Shadowhunter maps have marked siren territories, they should know better. The ocean is not allied with the Nephilim.

Save for the few who betray the Clave and turn to piracy, of course, but even then it is often a rough—albeit amusing—relationship. The pirates Magnus remembers meeting were adventuresome and fun.

Perhaps the Clave is trying to take control of the Underwater World, now. The imperialistic move sounds natural. Magnus supposes he shouldn’t have expected any improvements in their actions.

He suppresses the urge to run his fingers over the runes to see if he can wipe them off. Magnus shakes his head, inwardly tsking himself. It's simply gauche to treat a complete stranger with such prejudice. He shouldn’t have any expectations at all. It’s unfair. Neither of them had the choice in becoming what they are.

Magnus keeps watch over him. His magic can soothe some of the man’s pain, and the other man’s presence can soothe some of Magnus’ own.

Not alone. He's not alone anymore. Magnus vows to protect him, to relieve as much of his pain as he can, for as long as this can last. 

*******

The man frowns in his sleep, fingers tightening around the bed sheets. Suddenly, he jolts awake, eyes snapping open. He sits up with a start.

“Rise and shine,” Magnus greets him. “I hope you've had a restful sleep.”

The stranger squints at nothing in particular, confused. His eyebrows are pinched.

It's adorable, actually, and Magnus smiles a little. He hasn’t smiled in--forever. The man is beautiful, almost angelic, but he lacks the severity of a true angel that inspires fear instead of adoration. He looks like he should be painted and worshipped, adorned in gold and diamonds.

Magnus can give him that. He has plenty of gold that doesn't glitter and diamonds made of lies in this world of his.

But he has a feeling this guest does not seek glory or gold. And how odd is that?

He opens his mouth, and then seems to remember something terrible. His deep chocolate eyes widen, swirling with worry. He looks around, assessing the situation, hand instinctively reaching for a weapon that isn’t there. Then he spots Magnus. He stares at his eyes, lips parting in shock.

Magnus sighs, closing his eyes momentarily. He is prepared for this, of course, but not pleased. His devil mark is obvious to all who see him up close. Golden cat eyes flash in the night, emitting a sharp, unnatural glow that can be easily menacing. They must be disturbing and unpleasant to see first thing when you wakes, he thinks.

“I'm not about to turn you into a frog,” he tells him in a placating voice. Slow, low, with a soft cadence of reassuring confidence. “Or whatever fairy tales your Clave tells you these days,” he says disarmingly with a smile. Magnus slowly puts a hand over the Shadowhunter’s, telegraphing the gesture so he hopefully won’t try to attack him.

Surprised, he looks down briefly before his gaze darts back up on Magnus. He's like a fish out of water, still remaining silent. He frowns and rubs his throat.

Magnus tilts his head curiously. “Ah,” he says with realization, unfazed. “You're under the spell of a siren,” he guesses. He's seen it before. Sirens have a knack for curses that seem to make no sense at first, thus making them almost impossible to break.

He bites his lips briefly. Magnus follows the motion, and the man swallows. 

Damn his lack of voice. That's an annoyance that complicates things. Believe it or not, it's harder to communicate with someone who can't speak.

“I'm afraid I cannot break a siren’s curse," he says. “I do not know the conditions of the curse, and I doubt they bothered to tell you.”

The man’s frown deepens into something miserable and confused.

“Nevertheless,” Magnus tells him quickly, “we can circumvent it, so you need not worry your pretty self.” A notebook appears and he hands it to the man, along with a fountain pen.

The man hesitates before taking the pen. He has steady hands, Magnus notes. “ _I don’t remember anything_ ,” he writes.

“Amnesia is normal. Almost drowning does that to people.” Magnus neglects to mention that he is pleased to hear this. It’s selfish, but maybe...if memories don’t return, maybe Magnus can keep him here. Maybe he won’t have a reason to desert this forsaken paradise, if he doesn't remember the world he belongs to. 

" _You saved me?"_  He smiles at Magnus. It's tentative, but genuine, and unexpected warmth blooms inside Magnus like a burst of magic. " _Thank you._ "

“Not a problem.” After all, Magnus should be the one saying thank you. “I'm Magnus Bane. It's my pleasure to meet you.”

The name does not register as familiar to the man, which comes as a relief. He simply writes, " _I’m Alec_." And then, " _where are we?_ _"_

"Well. Technically, we’re nowhere,” Magnus drawls. “This place isn't in the same dimension as yours.”

Alec frowns, grip tightening around the pen.

“You are free to leave if you so wish, just tell me,” Magnus says. “But you’re more than welcome to rest here for as long as you want. Time passes here differently. Or rather...it doesn’t pass at all.” A touch of sadness curls his smile.

 _“What do you mean?_ " he asks. 

"It means if--"  _When_ , Magnus amends mentally, it's still unwise to get attached to someone who's going to leave-- "you choose to leave, your world will be waiting for you as if you'd never left." Of course, when that happens, Magnus isn't going to be able to forget about Alec like he'd never come. 

Alec's brows crease pensively. He nods slightly.

Magnus puts his hand on Alec's shoulder. "It means you're free here, Alec."

Alec nods again, lighter this time, like an unknown burden has shifted off him, and he smiles. 

**Author's Note:**

> Guys guys exciting news, I just made a tumblr. I'm kinda lost, so come find me [here ](kolminye.tumblr.com)!


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